“You can call it what you like, Robert. I believe Ruth’s Chris sounds good.”
Near Chapala, Mexico
“Señor, please!” Raul pleaded.
El jefe held a hand up to silence him. “I am not without resources, Raul.” He sighed heavily as he reached for his phone. “I hate to do this, but if things are as bad as your major would have you believe, then perhaps it is time to call in a marker.”
Raul practically fell into the wicker chair opposite him. “What are you doing?”
“Activating an asset I’ve had in place for some time.” He pressed the phone to his ear and held a finger up to silence his assistant. He clenched his jaw as the phone rang. “General Mendoza, I believe it is time to repay that favor you owe me.”
The federale officer grimaced when he heard the voice on the other end of the line. “I thought you might be calling me.”
“And you didn’t think to reach out to me first? I’m wounded, General,” he replied mockingly.
The officer gave himself a moment to think of the most correct reply. “As of now, all I hear are rumors. I would hate to waste your favor, or your most valuable time over unsubstantiated talk.”
El jefe scoffed. “Somehow, I doubt that it is all unsubstantiated.” He reached for the humidor and chose to bite the end off of his cigar. “So tell me, General…” He paused to light the stogie. “What information might you have heard that would interest me?”
“I am hearing rumors only, mind you…” He took a deep cleansing breath. “But I am hearing that the Sinaloas are hiring people out from under me at an alarming rate.”
“Hmm. This is interesting.” He sat forward and pressed his elbows to the desk. “They are hiring your people, and yet you cannot verify this?”
The general groaned. “Fantasma, you know that people working for the cartels do not talk. Especially to their commanding officers.”
“And especially if they intend to use military weapons against a civilian, yes?”
The general winced and ground his teeth together. “Correct.” He sat back in his chair and squeezed his eyes shut. “As I said, I am only hearing rumors. If I hear anything solid, I will let you know.”
“Tell me something, General.” El jefe blew out a long stream of blue gray smoke. “The Sinaloas didn’t get to you, too…did they?”
The general scoffed with dismay and sat bolt upright. “I am not for sale, señor!”
El jefe laughed as he leaned back in his chair. “Of course not, General. I never meant to imply that you were for sale.” He set his cigar down as his features hardened. “But you are compromised, are you not?”
The general huffed and ground his teeth again. “I am in your debt, this is true.”
“And we’d like to see that debt repaid, agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Then you will alert me once your men decide to act on this…’rumor,’ yes?”
The general nodded even though it couldn’t be seen. “Of course, señor.”
“Thank you, General. As a tax paying citizen and fervent supporter of the federales, I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”
“Of course.” Mendoza hung up his phone and stood from behind his desk. He looked to the officers sitting across from him. “El Fantasma knows what you are up to. He may not know exactly who is involved, but he knows that you plan to attack on behalf of the Sinaloas.”
25
Near Chapala, Mexico
Gregg Soares worked feverishly at his station, setting up computers, transceivers and miniature satellite dishes. “The foliage around here is so fucking thick,” he muttered.
Mauk patted at his BDU blouse pockets. “I had some agent orange somewhere.” He gave Slippy a sad face and a shrug. “I must have left it in my other uniform.”
“For the love of…” Slippy groaned. “Will you please go somewhere away from me and bother somebody else.”
“Aww, come on, Slip. Me and you is gonna be set up together in a sniper’s nest. Just the two of us.” He slipped a pickled egg into his mouth and chewed it slowly. “I’m loading up on protein in case we’re there for a long…LONG…time.” He gave Slippy an evil grin. “I’d kill for a beer to wash this down with.”
Slippy growled low in his throat and turned back to his work. “For somebody who is relying on my expertise to make sure the killer hornet drone doesn’t accidentally target him, you sure are going out of your way to piss me off.”
Mauk smiled again as he popped another egg into his mouth. “I trust your professionalism.” He chuckled as he trod away.
“How’s it coming?” Bridger asked as he made a slow approach.
“Any chance you could replace Mauk with DJ? Or Lisa?” He gave him a desperate look. “At this point I’d take Laughlin.”
Bridger’s brows knit in confusion. “What’s the hangup?”
“Mauk is loading up on pickled eggs and beer. He thinks we’re going to feather a nest together.” He raised a brow at him. “I WILL go full out Slippyfist on his ass if he thinks—”
“Relax, Slip.” Bridger patted his shoulder. “Mauk is setting up below you. I want you on the ridge for the widest possible field of view.”
Slippy paused and set down his tools. “You do understand that these drones only have about thirty minutes of flight time. If the tangos realize what’s going on and try to break for it, they won’t have the reserve to back you up inside.”
“I know.” Bridger looked past him as Diego inspected one of the drones. “If they try to run, break off a handful and send them to us. We’ll use them as entry assists while the others track and destroy.”
Slippy sighed. “Copy that.” He turned back to his screens and slowly shook his head. “You know that rushing this isn’t the smartest, right? We should do a bit of recon first and—”
“Diego has a man doing just that.”
Slippy turned and stared at him wide eyed. “You trust Diego now? I thought you were just telling him what
